The exact issues of love
by Because-Hetalia
Summary: Alfred Foster Jones isn't a very nice individual. He struggles with believing himself, offends without thought, and has a negative mind that consumes him. Arthur James Kirkland is a writer, a reader, and always lost in his fantasies; always smiling. Alfred doesn't believe that opposites can attract, and doubts love in general. Who knew that he would be horribly inaccurate?


I hate knowing that I'll wake up to nothing.

I don't know about anyone else, but lately getting up every day knowing that nothing important or exciting will happen to you seems useless. Pointless. Why get up if there's nothing to look forward to?

It depressed me, that thought. Sometimes it frustrated me to the very edge, and I would just lie in bed and complain about life, like a stubborn child. Such antics when I look back on it were foolish and immature, but I guess everyone has that time in which they do something without thinking.

This morning was a good example. I tossed my legs out of the bed and stand up, the blankets originally enveloping me now covering the ground. I would pick up after it later (maybe), but that's not the point. I advanced to the window and tugged open the pale yellow curtains, squinting into the bright daylight of another summer's morning until my vision adjusted.

Once everything was clear, I found myself seeing the normal view from here: The sidewalk that stretched forever passing the large field spotted with wildflowers on both sides of it, the neighbors' homes that were placed a mile apart from each other, separated by said field.

Besides the unfamiliar car that was parked in the driveway of a once empty home, nothing had changed.

Well damn.

The beginning of a pout rested on my bottom lip. Nothing but summer heat, and the sound of early birds greeting each other halfheartedly was to be the highlight of the morning. What had I expected? I guess you never know change unless it threw itself at you.

In other words: If you want something you can't change on your own to be different, you would have to wait for it.

I, Alfred Jones, did not like to wait.

A seventeen year old such as myself should have something note-worthy occur in their lifetime without request, right?

How I wished.

I glanced up at the sky and scowled, silently wishing that the clouds would wash right out of the blue sky, like they were only white blotches of paint. Then they could be as depressed as I was.

That put a smile on my face. In my opinion, the best way to get rid of the blues was to know that someone else had or knew your pain, so you weren't alone.

Hmmh. Well, at least I had clouds and an imagination.

But if anything, those clouds would be more like bleach on jeans. No matter how hard you try to make it disappear, it would stay. It was also because; guess what, clouds are a fact of life that you can't change. "Washing them out", what was I thinking? It was almost laughable.

And so, I conclude mentally that imagination was for children, and after dreaming like this so many times, I guess I finally accepted my opinion to be my own truth.

* * *

I hadn't realized I was still staring at the window with a retarded blank look on my face until I felt a hand smooth down my hair, treating the fingers like a comb and a brush. I grimaced momentarily, cheeks hot. Was my hair messy? I had just gotten up, after all. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised. I rolled my eyes upwards to see, only to find that I couldn't see the top of my head, only my bangs. Ha ha.

I could, however, turn my head around, to only find that I'm now looking directly into my mother's curious blue eyes, the same color as mine, that hinted amusement. I wrinkled my nose at her to show pretend disapproval, but the amusement came to be true and she laughed. "You look awful," she commented "you look like you've been in a fight. Did you just get up? Is that why you're still in your room?" I nodded and the grimace returned "It can't look that bad…." "It does." I love how blunt my mother is, I don't think many mothers would be this way without silently adding in a 'honey' or 'sweetie' into the sentence.

I huffed "well, I'm sorry. What time is it? You normally don't come looking for me." "It's around twelve; you should be up by now." _'No, there's something you came here for'_ I thought to myself. I knew my mom, and she stayed out of my room "the local pool opened a while ago, finally. Don't you want to get out? You've pretty much been cooped up in the house for two weeks since school ended."

A translated that as: _'I have things to do, private things. Get out the house, lazy ass.'_

That made me smile again; the second time today. This may be a new record of my daily happiness!

Pfft.

"Sure, why not?" I shrugged, only agreeing to make her happy. She smiled warmly and kissed my cheek "I'll see you on your way out, alright? Check with me before you go." _Plotting something, she's plotting something_. I liked this sense of mystery. Perhaps I was wrong about today.

…That was jumping too far.

* * *

I stood with a slightly sour look on my face as my mother took off my glasses and shined them again, even though she knew I wouldn't wear them underwater, brushing down my hair again even though it would return home soaked. However, I remained silent as she judged my appearance before she grinned and flashed me a thumbs up.

After carefully thinking of how my mother would reply, I said: "That wasn't really necessary, you know." She crossed her arms "Alfred Foster Jones, my grandmother used to tell me that the way you look once you leave the house reflects the whole family. Of course, appearance doesn't matter, but all of these new neighbors moving in around here are so damn judgmental it makes me want to rip my hair out. So, I'm showing them that we are a perfectly functional family."

I rolled my eyes. I wanted to ask why we were changing because of someone else, but I kept quiet "Alright, sure." Upon my bitter voice, her gaze softened to one of concern "Alfred, you alright? You've been kind of off all morning-" "I'm perfectly fine, mom" I didn't mean to cut her off with such a negative and loud tone, and I instantly regretted it. I opened my mouth to apologize, but she pursed her lips and then smiled, patting my back. "Alright, I get it hun', have fun, okay? And remember…."

I knew what she was going to say. I almost wanted to cut her off again so I didn't have to hear it.

"Deep breaths, think before you talk, walk away-"

"-Anything to control my temper and fists are never the answer. I know, I know" and with that, I left the house and heaved out a long sigh once the door shut behind me. I disliked the fact that she looked like she sympathized me, when she softened like that when I grew angry.

Like my temper was some kind of disease.

The pool was surprisingly... well, empty for the first day of its opening.

Bored lifeguard's raised their brows at me. I rose my brows back, like it was some sort of game. I knew those men, and I must say that I didn't like them. I never really liked lifeguards since they tend to suck the fun out of playing at the pool with rules like: 'No horse play' or 'No running'.

But then again, the only time people really got in trouble was because they acted stupidly with their friends. I don't have any idiots to horse around with, so I'm quite alright.

I scanned the pool, pointing out everyone. A few boys who had paired off in groups of two, a small gang of girls, and a few adults who were most likely parents made up the people here today. A pitiful amount for such a hot day, but the less people the better in my opinion. Less to deal with, to hear talking and laughing like they know something I don't. To glance in my direction and silently look me over, judge me.

I wonder if someone could shut up their minds. I would shut up mine. What's with all these negative thoughts I have?

Mentally slapping myself, I placed my things on an empty chair and was about to decide where to go, when I noticed something- rather- _someone. _He was glaring at the water as if challenging it, whipping his head around to look at the group of people on the other side of the pool as if he feared being seen, and then resuming his staring contest with the water.

He had dirty blond hair that was a golden honey color, and rather thick eyebrows that made me scoff. I noticed that his hair was surprisingly dry- did he just get here? As for eyes, he had a distinctive color of green that even I couldn't identify (not like I knew all the shades of green in the world anyways). I think the shade he had belonged to him and him alone. I envied unique people like that.

That was by far the gayest thing I have ever thought. There just eyes. Nothing special.

Yet they were…

I continued to watch him, but to avoid looking like some sort of stalker; I lowered myself into the water and peered at him, only my nose and up visible. He was trembling lightly, like he was scared, only his feet resting in the cold water. Scared of water… if so, why was he here? That wouldn't make sense, even though he looked like he would be an idiot. I scratched that idea out, which left only one possible answer:

He couldn't swim.

Pfft.

I brought myself up so I could chuckle lightly. What an idiot; didn't he have some sort of tutor? Maybe he was waiting for one. Without thinking, I swam a bit closer until I was a respectable distance from him, and then I heard my voice ask: "Can't swim?"

The guy jumped, eyes widening from momentary fright. He whipped his head around like he did before; probably assuming the question wasn't directed at him. A tad bit annoyed, I repeated with a louder voice, the same question. The guy then instantly glanced at me and jumped an amusing inch back. After staring at me with a dumb, blank face, he relaxed and grinned sheepishly. "So it's that obvious, huh? I thought I was doing a pretty good job hiding it…"

He was British; the accent quickly gave it away, and once I think about it, he looked the nationality as well. I was bit unsure on how to reply; I had spoken without thinking, breaking a rule of the way I acted. "You stand out, I noticed as soon as I came in. The purpose of the pool is to swim after all." I felt so stupid. I always felt that way when I was talking 'normally' to people. The only time I communicated to someone besides family was because they pissed me off and I wanted them to know, and believe me, I didn't show it in a very kind way.

He grimaced, bringing his feet out of the water and putting his knees up against his chest. He was a pretty small, pale guy and a bit on the thin side, but not at the point where you could see his bones and veins. I think it bothered him that I was staring so intently because he kept shifting when I began observing him like he was an animal. "Ah, that's embarrassing. I hope nobody else noticed… hey, sorry if I'm concerning you or anything" he apologized quickly, which for some reason frustrated me. Did I really appear sympathetic? Why did he look so weak and idiotic when apologizing?

I began to say something, but quickly cut myself off. I didn't have to be mean this time, did I? Why was thinking so negatively in the first place? Giving people a chance was something I was normally against doing, but I supposed I could give it a go for once. I forced a small smile "I wasn't really concerned, just curious. Don't worry; those idiots over there are only interested in what color they leave the water once they finally get there asses out."

I truly did think that, by the way, but I sort of made it seem like a joke,I guess. I had seen those guys before, and they piss me off so bad. They thought it would be amusing to stand by my locker at school and attempt to take my things and block my path. It didn't end well, although if someone asked me to tell them what happened I would answer without hesitation because giving those bastards a bad reputation would be fun.

It's horrible how hard I despise some people.

The guy laughed at that. Somebody laughed at a joke I made. For some reason I started laughing along, and people glanced over as if they wanted in on whatever was so funny. "I never liked those guys either. Since I'm a bit on the small side and read a lot, I tend to be a perfect target for bastards like them." "Really? Try punching them in the head sometime. Who knows, you may even hear something!" I had said it in a sarcastic tone, but the guy must have taken it as another joke because he laughed harder.

"Oh, by the way," he huffed, out of breath from laughing "the name's Arthur Kirkland, but you can call me Arthur if you want."

For some reason, I just started cracking up all over again. He looked a bit offended at first, which I didn't blame him for. I would've reacted the same way. I was a bit unsure what I found so amusing about his name. Why was I laughing so hard? "Sorry," I grinned, probably the biggest one I've done in a while "It's just… my name's Alfred Jones. You can call me Alfred." I sounded so stupid, like some little kid. He looked deep in thought, and then he pointed out enthusiastically: "Alfred and Arthur start with the same letter, and the first letters of our last names are next to each other in the alphabet."

I don't know what it was about the names that made me laugh. He—no, Arthur started laughing uncontrollably himself, and soon we were both exhausted from laughter. The life guard, being the little dick he was, blew his whistle at us for being too loud. I had the urge to flip him off, but I decided not to let the man ruin my rare good mood.

Rare good mood.

I almost became sullen again. Why was it so rare that I was happy?

* * *

After the two of us calmed down from our laughter, we sat together on the stretched out chairs by a section of the pool; away from everyone else. I then suddenly admitted that I never really liked swimming because it was too much effort. That was an easy lie though, I fear of a death by drowning.

Now that I look back on it, I must have sounded awfully lazy. I would never admit such a thing, it was just that sports were never a hobby of mine and I always tended to dislike every single one I tried, even though I'm said to be "strong built" and I'm so often requested to try out for futile activities like the football team.

I told Arthur about how I viewed sports, and he agreed with me at some level: "Yeah, I always preferred to read or write; music is high on my list as well. I'm alright at soccer though, I guess. I don't suck to bad." "Soccer is alright, the rules make a bit more sense compared to football in which it looks like big sweaty men tossing themselves at each other for a ball" I replied with an annoyed tone.

Arthur scoffed as if he half-way disagreed with me "Baseball is alright too. Hey, where do you live? Is this your local pool or something?" I nodded "yeah, I live just a few blocks away. You can see it if you're coming to the pool from the left," I pointed to the wide clearing in said direction. If you squinted, you could see the outline of two houses, one of which was mine "-you can see it."

His eyes lit up noticeably while I was talking, and now he was drumming his fingers on the chair from what appeared to be uncontrollable excitement "really? You mean the big one in the field, right?" _Big, that's funny. _I rolled my eyes, thinking of how much he sounded like a child "It's not that big, trust me, but I guess we have a pretty large porch and attic." Upon the confirmation, Arthur sucked in an excited breath, and his voice came out softly: "My parents and I moved here from London, England just a week ago. I'm certain the house were currently moving into is the white one close to yours."

Ah, that would explain that car I saw before, the one parked in the empty house. I almost felt a bit disappointed: I liked hiding in there when my mom pissed me off. I hoped I didn't leave anything there. I raised a brow at him, and felt a sudden pang in my heart at his expression. He looked so happy, didn't he? I could probably guess what he was thinking: _I won't be alone; I was so worried about making new friends! Now I'll have someone to talk too! Things are looking up._

Arthur didn't know this friendly attitude was only an act, a rare act at that. Not in the sense that I was lying to him, but everyone except him knows I'm normally not this nice to new people. Actually, I tend to be meaner so they learn to not mess or bother me.

It would only be a matter of time until Arthur discovered that I was just a jerk.

"Really? That's cool. Really cool."

* * *

**A.N: **I was always interested in stories that had Alfred as an asshole ; v ; I don't know why I adore him that way. I love Arthur as an excitable little cutie as well. A dork and an asshole. Hngh.

If you didn't notice by the summary, yes, this is an AU (alternate universe). An USUK AU at that. I might hint other parings but that's all future planning.

This may remain as Alfred's P.O.V (point of view) for the rest of the story, I'm unsure. I rated it M for future content (sexy times) in future chapters and for very strong language and depressing considerations made by our asshole.

Reviews are welcome if they're positive, and it would be nice to get some feedback on my ide

Until then o u o


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